


A Home in The Clouds

by theskyisgay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Band Fic, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyisgay/pseuds/theskyisgay
Summary: Sirius Black doesn’t know Remus Lupin, but he knows of him. He’s seen his pictures, and he’s seen him in every bar that they’ve played at with his camera hung around his neck. He had made scenarios in his head about the things he would say to Remus fucking Lupin if he ever got a chance: I absolutely love your pictures; I saw your face a week after I saw your pictures and it just fit, no one in this entire fucking universe could take pictures like you do, you just fit with them, speaking of which, your face is absolutely lovely; I think about you underneath me more times than I wish to state, I want to fuck you quite desperately. I’ve never even met you but I think I am irrevocably in love with you. But when Sirius does finally meet him, in the haze of January doing a show without their usual passion, none of what he wants to say comes out of his mouth. What he does indeed say, might just be a story for another day.





	A Home in The Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so so so very grateful to the absolutely lovely jencala for all her help in beta-ing my work. I can't thank her enough for everything. 
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger Warning: Vague mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of past domestic violence, mentions of past child abuse.

The air is sticky and filled with the scent of smoke and alcohol and sex. Nothing they’re not used to but it manages to take Sirius unawares every time. He feels particularly listless today, the grey weather adding to his melancholy and it doesn’t help that James is trying to woo the redhead bartender, Lily Evans, by trying to sound like Alex _Fucking_ Turner but it’s failing immensely and it just sounds like an 8 year old with a cold. Peter’s head is in the clouds today and he can barely focus long enough to get through one song and Sirius hates playing like this but they needed the money. Playing in a band had been Sirius’ dream since the moment he’d heard Queen play but, James and Peter were not quite sure if this is what they wanted to do. Sirius was. He’d been in love with the guitar since the second he got his hands on one, but he’ll take what he gets even if it is mostly half-assed. Though James, bless him, tries the best he can, since he saw Lily he tries to include her hair or her eyes in every one of their songs and Sirius does not like it. But he can’t complain. James is the brother his own brother couldn’t be. 

The last song is abysmal at best according to Sirius, but the crowd still applauds thunderously and he thinks that no one really gives a fuck about their music, they just like them because they exude punk energy and their band is quite perfect, really, in terms of the members inhabiting it: Sirius, The Gay Heartbreaker, James, The Respectful Flirt, and Peter, The Underdog. They were almost on the way to becoming London’s wet dream but they never could be. That had meant hours and hours of practice that James and Peter hadn’t been ready for. So Sirius makes do with what he has.

But tonight is a seemingly dull affair and Sirius can’t help be extremely blue as James packs up their stuff because apparently they’ve been invited to some party being hosted by some kids in college.

“It’ll be fun, mate. Lily’s going.” James says as if the presence of Lily in some stoner’s party will be the only reason Sirius will bend his will and attend.

“Not tonight, Prongs. I’m beat.” Sirius sighs as he picks up his guitar case, an adamant look in his eyes that makes James relent.

"Alright then, Padfoot. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, you big Queer.” James grins as he walks away and throws a lazy arm around Peter, dragging him and following the college kids.

‘I love you, you big Queer’, had been James’ goodbye words since the day Sirius had come out to him back when they were about 13 and ignorant, though not blissfully. It was a term of the highest form of endearment and made Sirius smile unintentionally almost always.

Tonight James’ words were not quite able to elicit a smile out of him. He decided to get a drink before heading home and he walked to the bar, and sat down on the stool quite miserably. It seemed as if everything he did today was underlined with a thick coat of unmistakable misery.

“You were outrageously terrible today.” Sirius whipped his head to look at the person who had said these words in a voice that seemed more like an effortless sexy drawl. The ground seemed to literally disappear from underneath his feet as he struggled to hold himself up and he looked at the face of Remus  _ Fucking  _ Lupin. His voice sent shivers down Sirius’ spine and all he could think of was how it did justice to the beauty of his face and his pictures. 

“Easy tiger.” Remus smirked slightly and Sirius wanted nothing more than to lick the expression off of Remus’ face. 

Sirius can’t really believe that he’s meeting  _ Remus Lupin _ . He’s fantasised about this man since the second he saw him about four months ago while they were playing a gig at Hog’s Head. He had been taking pictures of the crowd, Sirius didn’t know if someone had hired him or not. All he could really notice was how fluid Remus’ movements were. How he moved so effortlessly through the crowds, taking pictures of things Sirius would never consider to look at twice. It seemed to Sirius as if Remus was taking pictures almost carelessly, like holding a camera was the most natural thing in the world, as if he’d been born taking pictures and he’d die the same way. It was exactly the way Sirius felt about his guitar. That was the moment he’d vowed to himself that he had to find out everything about this man and he’d proceeded to ask around. 

The bartender had told him that the photographer was a man called Remus Lupin. He had not been hired but he liked to take pictures when live bands played. He had been to the bar a few times before too, when Sirius’ band, The Marauders had been playing. Initially, Sirius had been surprised that he hadn’t noticed Remus the other times he’d been in the same place as them, but now as he sat on the wobbly bar stool next to Remus, and watched him smirk and drink from his glass, he realised that everything Remus Lupin did was so absolutely  _ slight  _ that it was a wonder Sirius had noticed him when he had. But at the same time, everything Remus did was so attractive in a very subtle yet glaring way and Sirius was rendered speechless now that Remus was in next to him, hair the colour of caramel falling lightly in his eyes—his eyes,  _ god those eyes,  _ which looked like a rich forest brimming with liquid gold. 

Sirius had to say something to him but his mind was cloudy and his words overlapped each other, his thoughts forming a cloud in his mind: _Remus is so beautiful, its so hot in here, I wanna_ _kiss him._ Instead, what he did say to Remus was, “I’m in heat.”

Remus’ laughter was _not_ slight.

Sirius fumbled with words, blushing profusely, “I’m sorry. Ugh. I was just- I don’t know.”

“It’s alright,” Remus was smiling now, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You’re Sirius Black. I’m Remus Lupin.”

Sirius shook the proffered hand, still a lit dumbfounded, “I know who you are. I’ve seen your pictures on Instagram. They’re lovely.”

Remus turned away, an indecipherable look on his face. Then, he looked back at Sirius and said, “You wanna get out of here?”

Before Sirius even knew what he was doing he found himself nodding quite enthusiastically and following Remus out of the back door of the bar. They sat down on the floor leaning against the wall. Sirius had never gone to the back of the bar and he had to admit that the view from there at that time of the night was quite exhilarating and the absence of people made him feel better than before. He could faintly make out the silhouette of the hills at a distance. The city lights glowed so brightly Sirius almost felt as if they were mocking the tenebrosity he felt. 

Remus lit a cigarette, its faint light accentuating the gold in his eyes and the faint white map of scars on his face. Sirius felt a sudden overwhelming desire to kiss him.

“Want one?”

Sirius nodded as Remus took out another cigarette, handing it to Sirius and lighting it for him. Even the simplest of his movements enthralled Sirius. He was fucked beyond measure.

“Where do you work?” Sirius asked, blissfully inhaling the smoke.

“At the library.” Remus replied quietly, once again staring off into the distance. 

Sirius didn’t hide his surprise, “I thought you worked at some magazine or something.”

Remus let out a low chuckle that made Sirius feel warmth at the pit of his stomach despite the cold. “I do a few gigs here and there. But you gotta pay the bills somehow. Library’s good for that. Plus, I like the books.”

“You were the one who photographed Marlene and Dorcas’ wedding, right?” 

Remus nodded, “Yeah. I’m not really a wedding photographer, but they couldn’t find anyone else who fit their budget willing to photograph a lesbian wedding and they’d seen a few of my pictures. I saw you guys there but you weren’t playing.” 

Sirius grinned remembering how amazing the wedding had been, “Yeah. Marlene and Dorcas went to school with James, Pete and me. We’ve been friends a while.”

“It was a good wedding.”

“You know, I’m sure you could get a job quite easily at some magazine or something. You’re really good.” 

Remus scoffed, “I wanted to work with a magazine or do some sort of photojournalism, but I don’t really like the options I have. They don’t really do justice to the kind of work I do or want to do going forward.”

Sirius smirked, “So, you’re into that Howard Roarke-righteous-work sort of shit, huh?”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Sirius with a gaze so piercing that Sirius may have flinched had Remus not been looking so cute right now, “Aren’t  _ you _ ? I don’t want a job where everyone’s just doing the shit that they’ve been doing for fucking years, where they don’t even wanna try anything new. They just want me to do shit that’s neutral, you know? They’re afraid of anything that might piss people off. They hate the truth. I don’t. I try my fucking hardest to tell the truth using my pictures. They don’t like that. They think it’s too risky. I shot some pictures at a Pride March once. Made a portfolio and all and submitted them to this guy who was about to put up an exhibition. He told me my pictures were “inappropriate” and might piss off a lot of people and lose him business. Didn’t go back again. I don’t blame him but I can’t work with people like that, either. This work is my entire fucking life and I’ll be damned if I didn’t do it justice. I wanna do it right or I don’t wanna do it at all. I know how cliche and  _ privileged  _ it sounds, like I’m just some floozy who lives off his parent’s money but I don’t.  I work at the library, I work as a janitor, I take jobs when I get them. It’s not a stable life but at I’m not half-assing anything so I’ll take it.”

For the first time in his life, Sirius felt out of words, but he had to say something. Everything Remus had just said to him seemed like he was spilling his soul to him in a way no one had. Sirius had to respond, “There is more to life than just work, you know?” 

Remus snorted, “Like what?”

“Family? Love?” Sirius said, feebly. 

Remus looked at him like he was sizing up his prey, “Don’t give me that shit, Black. I didn’t bring you out here so that you could spew this bullshit on me without even believing in it yourself. If you don’t wanna be real with me then leave.” 

“Okay, fuck it. This,” he said gesturing to his guitar, “is my entire fucking life. I’ve been playing since I was able to and I don’t ever wanna fucking stop. I try to do my best. James and Peter don’t necessarily want music to be a career but god damn, I do. I’ve never half assed this and the day I feel like James and Pete aren’t giving this their all, I’ll go out on my own. I work anywhere that hires me too, you know? I need money to live. I denied this record deal we almost got once because they wanted me to “stop writing gay songs and stop wearing eyeliner like a fag”. James and Pete were mad because the money was alright but I just couldn’t. He said we were pretty enough to be like the next One direction or something if we stopped writing in abstract like Jeff Mangum. He said this Jeff Mangum shit doesn’t last. People only want pretty boys singing love songs about pretty girls. I had a huge fight with James after I refused to sign their deal. It was the only fight we’ve ever had. I think after that day, James stopped wanting to sing as much as he did before and he’s only doing it because I’m like family. But I don’t care as long as I get to play and as long as James does a half decent job."

Sirius finished, quite anticlimactically according to him, but Remus didn’t seem to mind. He quietly smoked his cigarette, eyes wandering over the lights of the city and the hills. Sirius noticed that during his monologue, Remus had shifted closer to him. Their shoulders were almost touching. He wanted to touch Remus— over his clothes, under his clothes, touch his hair, his skin, run his fingers over the freckles that smattered over his nose and cheeks, bury his hand in his dark golden curls. He wanted to trace the faint white scar that began from his left ear and ended just at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to hold Remus; to be inside him, to hear him chanting his name over and over like a prayer, like it was the only thing that mattered.  

But right now, he seemed too scared to even ask Remus the simplest of questions. Sirius had never had trouble flirting, but this thing, whatever it was with Remus, seemed more real and important than any flirting or dating he might have done in the past. He felt that this was his only chance and he had to do it right. He just didn’t know how to. 

Remus, however, did. He was as tactless as a sunflower was yellow and he hardly cared about small talk. He would ask whatever he wanted to. If the other person didn’t want to answer he would respect that. But his part was done. 

So he asked, “You’re the Sirius whose parents own Black Industries. Weren’t you supposed to like inherit that stuff when you came of age?”

Sirius wasn’t going to pretend that he hadn’t been asked this question before or that he liked to answer questions about his family, but something about Remus, maybe his mostly stoic demeanour and the fact that the only expression he had exhibited til now had been a smirk, made him want to tell him. Not everything, of course, but maybe just a little that would be fuel enough and would make Remus tell him things about himself. 

“I was. But they disowned me when I was 16. The Potters, James’ family, took me in.”

Remus exhaled, “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, we never got along too well. They were never really keen on me being gay and all this—” Sirius said, gesturing to his long hair and eyeliner. 

For the first time that night, Sirius could see the ghost of a real smile on Remus’ face, but it was gone as soon as it came and Sirius wondered if he had hallucinated it. 

“I know a thing or two about dysfunctional families.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius, questioned turning his head to look at Remus and almost collapsed due to his sheer beauty. Sirius had seen his fair share of beautiful people in his life but Remus was something else. Sirius couldn’t quite put a finger on it but there was something almost eerie about the other boy, like he existed outside of his body, even though his movements were fluid and graceful. Remus’ eyes captivated Sirius the most; they had been dark brown when he had seen him in the bar but now, illuminated by the faint glow of his cigarette and the even fainter lights around them, they looked like flowing molten gold and, for the lack of a better word, sad. Sirius wondered if Remus felt the same melancholy that Sirius seemed to be born with. He wondered if Remus too, thought that  _ leaving  _ was the only option left for them. He wondered if Remus had also tried to die, and if so, how had he done it; slashed his wrists like Sirius had once in his last year of school or had Remus jumped from a tall building hoping to be free at least in his death? He wondered if Remus too took the coldest or the hottest showers hoping to feel anything _ , anything at all,  _ he wondered if Remus felt as empty as Sirius, if his laughter never quite reached his eyes, if he had ever truly laughed, if Remus knew what love felt like, if he cried every time he looked at the mirror, if he wanted an out as much as Sirius did. The more Sirius thought about this, the more he realised that maybe he didn’t want to know the answers. 

But that realisation fell apart as soon as Remus spoke, his voice heavy and quiet, Sirius again thought that he was hallucinating it. All Remus said was yeah, but Sirius heard years of unspoken pain and not enough happy childhood memories (if any at all) and hollowness that sounded almost criminal coming from the mouth of someone only in their twenties. 

A final realisation dawned on Sirius that he couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t  _ go before hearing every single thing Remus had to say. He didn’t quite know how to ask someone in the least invasive way, to reveal everything about themselves. He decided that most rational thing to ask would be about his family. So he opened his mouth to ask Remus to elaborate about his family but Remus beat him to it.

“I’m saying this for the second time, but you really were horrible tonight.” Remus said, his voice smooth and level and made Sirius’ insides curl.

Sirius however, laughed, surprising himself and nodded his head, “Yeah. We screwed the pooch today.” 

Remus hummed, “You were pretty good. You play like a man who’s tasting food after days of lying hungry at the bottom of a cave, like you might just die if you don’t play. I like that a lot. Your other two teammates, however, were not in it today and that obviously rubbed off on you too, a little bit. This is a team game, after all.” 

Sirius grinned, “You really analyse how I play, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. You know you’re good.”

“I am. Anyway, James was just distracted because he wants to fuck this chick Lily Evans and Peter is thinking of getting his own place. So, yeah, not our best.” Sirius mulled over his words for a second before saying them, “You know, I think you could sing too. You’ve got a nice voice. Maybe you could play with us sometime? You know, just jamming?”

“Why? James not sad enough for you?” Remus grins.

“Are you implying that you’re sad, Lupin?” Sirius asks, bravely bumping his shoulder with Remus’, almost expecting Remus to move away. He is pleasantly surprised when Remus stays put and even seems to lean in towards Sirius just a bit, their heads quite close together. If Sirius turns his face towards Remus he would be close enough to kiss him and just the thought of that is as enough to make him shiver. 

Remus doesn’t seem to notice Sirius shivering or he chooses to ignore it, giving extra attention to his cigarette and mulling over his words in his head, “Don’t you have to be a certain amount of sad in order to play that well?” His voice is beautifully stoic and smooth and Sirius almost doesn’t realise that Remus Lupin is probably flirting with him. 

“I don’t think sad is the word I’d use. But I’m glad you enjoy my playing.” 

“Oh? What’s the word you’d use, then?”

Sirius finds it extremely captivating that Remus makes his voice go from stoic to sultry with graceful ease and Sirius finds himself frustrated because it’s extremely hard to not kiss the other man breathless right now. He has to swallow in order to keep his hands to himself and catches a small smirk make its way to Remus’ face. 

“I don’t think I’m sad. I think it's just..passion.” 

“You misunderstood me.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know that you’re extremely passionate about playing and music and I know that you love it more than anything and I know that you’re not some emo-ass kid who thinks it’s cool to be unhappy and thinks  that’s gonna get him laid but you get this look in your eyes when you’re playing and it’s the closest thing to happiness I’ve seen on you and that sort makes me feel like maybe you’re not so happy when you’re not playing.” 

Sirius just hums and Remus takes that as cue to continue.

“And it’s also your lyrics, you know? And don’t say that James writes your songs because I definitely saw him forget a word today even though he covered up easily. It wasn’t visible but you continued to mouth the words- you always mouth all the words. Peter only mouths the chorus, so I know that you write the lyrics and it doesn’t seem to me that someone who’s happy could write the lyrics you do.”

“Do my lyrics sound like they’ve been inspired by the great Jeff Mangum?”

“They do. They really do. But I don’t think Jeff Mangum is the epitome of happiness.

“I wouldn’t use the word sad for him or his lyrics though.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Their songs weren’t sad. They were just too real and too amazing and too fucked up and your songs are a lot like that, but not as abstract. They’re beautiful and I can sort of see why your record-deal-guy asked you to write different songs because people don’t like people who want to tell them truth that’s hard to hear. They like it for a while because you know, it’s new and unique and brave, but then they start getting afraid of it and so they start calling it shit like too complicated and so they start trashing Mangum and Neutral Milk Hotel but really they just don’t wanna hear anything that’ll make them question things and they wanna go back to listening to songs about pretty boys pining over pretty girls because fantastically worded songs about sexual assault just sort of lose their thrill after a while, don’t they?” Sarcasm dripped from Remus’s voice as he said those last few words and he shook his head in what seemed to be disbelief while crushing his cigarette under his shoe. 

There were so many things Sirius wanted to say to Remus right now, things that sounded a lot like a confession of love. Not even love, he thought, because love had been what he’d felt when he’d seen Remus for the first time, but this, right now, was something completely different, something holier that seemed to transcend time and  _ love  _ just didn’t quite capture it. But he didn’t say any of this because Sirius Black seemed to lose all his trademark Black charm in front of Remus Lupin. All he said was:

“I love Neutral Milk Hotel.”

And that seemed to do the trick because Remus truly  _ smiled _ for the first time since Sirius had  _ seen  _ him and this smile was all white teeth and beautiful pink lips and it reached his eyes and Sirius felt like he had been born again.

 

—

It was almost three in the morning and Sirius and Remus had ditched their cigarettes and their place at the back of the bar and had now settled down on the grass in a small clearing near the bar, their fingers almost brushing. Sirius felt as alive as he did when his hands would hold his guitar. He turned his face ever so lightly to look at Remus.

“How did you get that?” he asks, pointing at a glittering white scar on the other boy’s face. 

Remus doesn’t say anything, just turns around and looks at Sirius for a while. Sirius tries to lock in his mind the way the moonlight falls on Remus’ face and illuminates his features. The moon is full and glowing and Remus’ lips stretch just a little bit and he looks almost feral for a second. 

“Are we doing confessions now?” he asks, instead of choosing to reply.

“Depends. Do you have anything to confess?” Sirius replied cheekily while gently nudging Remus.

Remus leaned in closer and put his hand on top of Sirius’. His hand was warm and soft and Sirius never wanted it gone. Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand and brought it towards his own face, keeping it over his scar. Sirius gently ran his fingers over the slightly raised tissue. Remus’ skin felt so soft underneath his calloused fingers, his scar being the only contradiction. He felt Remus’ breathing speed up as his fingers neared his lips. Desperately wanting to touch them but unsure if he should, he quickly retracted his hands before it became too hard to do so.

When Remus finally spoke, his voice seemed far away and his words seemed rusted, like he hadn’t spoken these particular words in a very long time and he had trouble wrapping his tongue around them.

“My mum threw a vase at me when I was 8 when I told her that her boyfriend used to visit my bedroom every night. Not that she believed me. She was just angry because apparently I was lying.” 

Sirius closed his eyes letting Remus’ words wash over him, reminding him again that he wasn’t the only one who knew pain. He lifted his shirt and grabbed Remus’ hand, letting it trace over an angry scar that ran across his stomach. 

“Father got a little carried away with his belt when I told him I was gay. He thought he could beat it out of me. Clearly didn’t work.” he said, making a feeble attempt at a joke. 

Remus opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of which words could do justice to what Sirius had just told him. Instead he lifted up his own t-shirt and took Sirius’ hand, dragging it across a patch of leathery skin on his chest, expecting Sirius to flinch and being surprised when instead his touch became gentle, his fingers carefully brushing over the skin.

“An old boyfriend threw boiling water at me.” 

Sirius inhaled deeply, his hands still wandering Remus’ skin. 

And they lay there on the grass, conversing in whispered confessions of scars, uttering words that would have died inside them had they not met each other, hands careful yet audacious as they run along each others’ scars, sometimes daring to touch the skin around them. 

Sirius had never felt this alive and this  _ real.  _ All he wanted to do was kiss Remus but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to survive it. 

Then suddenly, Remus’ fingers intertwined with his own and the touch made him shiver and he wondered what on earth he had done to deserve it. Remus placed his other hand on Sirius’ cheek, gently circling his thumb over his cheekbone and Sirius forgot how to breathe.

When Remus kissed him, for a second Sirius felt a horrible feeling of dread that this would turn to shit and he would be left completely, utterly, alone and he didn’t think he would be able to live through it. But then Remus’ hands were in his hair and  _ Remus was kissing him,  _ all tongue and teeth and gorgeous, soft lips. He tasted like cigarettes and chocolates and warm bread and Sirius kissed him back with everything he had. He couldn’t pin the moment their limbs entangled, but this was heaven and Sirius knew he wouldn’t leave Remus even if he wanted to.

When they pulled away, Sirius noticed the moonlight falling directly on Remus’ face and he traced it with his fingers, eliciting a short burst of laughter from him. 

“I somehow get what Mumford and Sons sang about now.” Remus whispered, his voice on the edge of something new and unfamiliar, a little afraid but,  _ fuck,  _ Sirius was afraid too. 

He had never felt anything akin to love for someone with this intensity, except James, yet here he was, almost completely in love with a man he’d met for the first time. This charming man with his too-large sweater and his camera and that groundbreaking smirk. Sirius had never really been in love with the people he had dated, but it seemed like blasphemy to  _ not  _ be in love with Remus and Sirius didn’t think he could ever commit such a sin. So he just looked at Remus, burning everything about him in his mind because God forbid he ever forgot even the smallest detail about him, remembering his freckles and the curve of his smile.

“I’ll write an entire album for you, Remus.” he murmured, lightly pressing his lips to his cheek.

Remus smiled and Sirius swore he could see the moon reflected in that smile.

He knew in that second, that he could love Remus forever, that he could fall in love with him every day anew; every single day.

_ What a beautiful face I have found in this place _

_ That is circling all around the sun. _

_ And when we meet on a cloud,  _

_ I’d be laughing out louds _

Sirius could live with Remus on a cloud, hell he could live with him in Grimmauld Place if it meant they’d be together.

_ I’ll thank Jeff Mangum for this if I ever meet him,  _ he thinks as Remus sits up taking Sirius with him and kissing him fervently, promises of a forever, however broken, laying at their feet, begging to be explored.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics at the end are from Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea."  
> I love that band and their songs so so so much/
> 
> I had read this fic "Brighten the Corners" by Montparnasse and i loved it and that sort of inspired me to write this. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated!
> 
> hit me up on tumblr if you want. My username is theskyisgay021


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